Steel Silver
by Everleigh Chance
Summary: DISCONTINUED. New, rewritten version, "Voltaic Veins" can now be read at my profile.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Hello everyone! I can't fathom how happy I am when you decided to click on this title. And also how anxious I am to begin this. So please bear with me. This is my first fic I've written and submitted for the Marvel Cinematic Universe and for the Captain America category. Let's see how this goes, eh?

* * *

_**( **_· **STEEL SILVER **· _**)**_

— PROLOGUE —

_alone, i fight these animals_  
_alone, until i get home_

* * *

**[** 02:54 PM ━ April 16th, 2007 **]** Manila, Philippines

She was terrified.

All her senses were amplified. But that well-known fact was not helping her in any way at all. She could feel perspiration trickling down her forehead, her own heart hammering hard in her chest. She could taste the metallic taste of blood that seeped through the wound she had bitten on her tongue, the iron grip the man beside her had on her right arm. Every moment of what she was going through was being thoroughly recorded by her mind as the seconds agonizingly ticked by.

"Please, stop this." her words escaped, barely a whisper. But the man beside her heard every syllable well enough for a smirk to cross his lips.

"Just keep your mouth shut and watch," he replied. "Enjoy the show." he added in a mildly cheerful tone, only tightening his grip on her arm as she pressed her lips in pain.

The sound of giggling reached her ears as her line of sight was crossed by a toddler who held a balloon's string between his little fingers. _Please, get out of here, _she begged in silence as she swallowed thickly. By that time, her own beating heart had become a roaring in her ears. Panic was rapidly rising inside her and the increasing amount of people arriving only strengthened her urge to scream out. _But I can't._

"What time is it?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"Two fifty-five." came the quick reply.

_Five minutes._

Five minutes until another name was added to the list. To _his_ list.

She grit her teeth as she began to weakly tug her arm away from the male. In response, he merely sent her a glare before she resorted to stopping, seeing how her attempt resulted in nothing useful.

"Get me out of here. Get _us_ out of here." she demanded this time, the heat no longer bothering her as much as awhile ago as her eyes frantically searched for the target.

What had she seen in the file earlier? She scanned her mind — _quick, quick, quick_. A doctor, it was a doctor. Was he? Male. Doctor Miguel Serrano. She hadn't taken in much, just vital information — that he was quite prominent for attempting to work on a super soldier serum as well, and other experiments that appeared to be of large value. And that when HYDRA tried to recruit him, he had straightforward refused. That he had barely escaped alive from their meeting place after he threatened to reveal to the public information. Specific information regarding another project that her captors clearly had no intention to spill to her. And when she pressed them on, they simply said that the project would be their trump card. Not her, not the Winter Soldier, but the hidden project.

What other secrets did HYDRA have under their sleeve?

She had also learned that Dr. Serrano had secretly worked on a similar project and had apparently achieved something HYDRA's scientists weren't able to. And now, they wanted whatever he had.

"We? Get out of here?" the man beside her answered, scoffing at her words.

The female furrowed her brows in disgust, tugging her arm once more. "No. Me and . . . him_._"

She could see that her answer had wiped the smirk off his face, as the serious facade came back to cover up any emotions he had at the moment.

Seeing that she had silenced him, she continued. "I _beg_ you, he doesn't need anothe—"

"Him? Or you?" he then turned to face her, an irritated look on his face. "If I remember right, it was you who wanted to come in the first place!" he whispered furiously — evidently, she had successfully gotten on his nerves.

"I never said that!" she whispered back through gritted teeth as she felt her blood boil. She wasn't about to explain her case to him so she left it at that.

"_She's right,_" the voice from the man's earpiece said, loud and clear enough for the woman to hear as well. "_Nielsen wanted her to come. As a witness._"

_As a witness,_ she thought bitterly. She recalled the recent event then; Nielsen forced her to come and watch as the assassination would take place. After she had gotten on his nerves, as well.

_And look where it got me._

If anything, it was to torment her the more. It wasn't supposed to help her in any case. As far as she knew, anyway.

_Like a front row seat to a sick show. A very, very sick one._

"Two fifty-six," her bodyguard then chimed in, the smirk back on his lips. _Four minutes._ Oh, how much she wanted to punch that smirk off his ugly face.

Rizal Park, the place was called. HYDRA's spies reported earlier that their target had planned a family outing that afternoon. The same time Nielsen decided they'd pay the doctor a visit. The last visit Dr. Serrano was gonna have from HYDRA, that is.

It had been three months since HYDRA had paid him the visit. The whole time then, she had bothered to keep herself updated on what was happening. Nielsen obliged. After Dr. Serrano successfully escaped from their clutches however, Nielsen decided to let him go. But that didn't mean they were letting the leash go with him as well.

For three months, they waited. HYDRA assumed he had gone to hiding. But all the wait was worth it because from were they were now, they could see that he had finally left hiding and was out and about again. She guessed that he thought that HYDRA had perhaps _really_ let him go. That they no longer paid mind to him. That he was free and safe.

But she knew that it would be his gravest mistake yet.

"Two fifty-seven," the man cuckoo-ed again before he began to whistle.

"Shut up." she spat at him, the metallic and salty taste of blood still lingering inside her mouth.

_Where is he?_ she thought, grey hues darting as far as she could manage in a search for the doctor and his family'. As the minutes passed by, the park had begun to slowly but steadily fill up with more people. With more witnesses. The female winced at the thought as she pulled the image from her memories — tan skin, graying hair, medium build . . .

_There!_

Spotting him among the crowds spared her a second of relief. From where she was, she could see the doctor donning a sky blue polo as he . . .

Her heart broke.

In his arms, he carried a young girl while walking by his side was a striking female who could only be his wife.

_No. Please, no._

The image tore at her. Because after today's events, there would only be one more fatherless child and one more widow. And worse of all, there would be one more dead person to add to his list. One more weight to heave down the guilt when he would realize . . .

And there she was standing, with a man keeping her in place with his iron grip on her arm as she simply watched, unable to do something. Anything, at all. Helpless. A mere witness.

The small family was several feet away. If she could just run and . . .

"Two fifty-eight."

Why was it that when you wanted time to slow down, those were the moments when time actually seems to speed up the more? Was there any way in the universe where one could actually stop time?

"Two fifty-nine."

_No!_

She saw the doctor turn his head, away from his daughter and towards her direction. She felt the man's grip tighten all the more, a short yet pained gasp escaping her lips.

Did she say that out loud?

She felt her bodyguard tug her closer to himself and the movement was just exactly what she needed. The second he pulled her, she pulled her arm away as well with all the strength, no matter how little, she had at the moment. The moment she made up her mind to go against orders.

Then she ran.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, paying no mind to her screaming muscles. Her hands were pushing people away — she could feel her bodyguard chasing behind her as he screamed her name.

_Please._

"Get out of the way!" she screamed.

But it was too late.

_Three o'clock,_ a spiteful voice inside her head whispered, killing any light of hope she had the moment a shot was heard. A _bang! _echoed through the park.

She dropped to a stop as she struggled to catch her breath, her legs collapsing beneath her as she fell to the ground, kneeling. She cursed that moment when time actually seemed to stop. Her eyes followed the legs that gave out, the body that collapsed, the screaming and running citizens. The child's fall from lifeless arms, the wife's cry. Her eyes saw the crimson red pouring out of the head wound the bullet went through.

Another name to add to the list.

"_Tulong!_"

Help. The word meant help. It was shouted in the woman's mother tongue. She watched as the wife dropped to her knees to cradle her husband's corpse, the young daughter crawling in front of the body as both sobbed in fear and grief. That single word, that one cry of help and despair, would be enough then to sear yet another scar into her mind. Another painful memory for him and herself to recall when their darkest moments would come.

_And they'll never know why nor who._

The last thing she saw that day was him. She shakily got to her feet as she turning her head away from the heartbreaking scene, no longer able to handle it. And that's when her eyes catch the sight of him calmly yet subtly going against the sea of people.

Swift and silent. A shadow. A ghost. Him.

_Bucky._

Then she felt a punch land on the back of her head, enough to knock her out. To close her eyes, to welcome the darkness — she slipped into the oblivion called unconsciousness without any anchor to hold on to.

* * *

Author's Note: Do I have your attention now? Sorry for the sorta short chapter but, hey, this is just the prologue. You can start expecting a lot more after this one. And for those wondering, this fic will be completely and strictly held only in Marvel Cinematic Universe canon. With, perhaps, a few of my own headcanons thrown in (duh, it's fanfiction). I guess that's for now? Please do kindly leave a review — comments, criticism, and the like are more than welcome as I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	2. Howling Ghosts

Author's Note: I'm sorry for making everyone wait for so long! Like, eight-months-long. Likewise, a straight-from-the-heart thank you to everyone who followed, made this a favorite, and sent in reviews! All of those mean the world to me.

* * *

_**( **_· **STEEL SILVER **· _**)**_

— ONE —

_howling ghosts, they reappear_  
_in mountains that are stacked with fear_

* * *

**[** 01:37 AM ━ April 10th, 2014 **]** Washington, D.C.

A soft chime from the tiny bell was enough to catch almost every person's attention. The bar's customers spared a brief glance towards the entrance where a man in a leather jacket had just entered, the ghost of a smile on his lips, before the attention was directed away from him and back to each one's own businesses.

"Sam."

The voice was tainted by hidden delight, and came out soft and pleasant. Sam turned his head to the source and saw there a woman, standing in front of a table, donning a white top and jeans with a gray cardigan overlaying her outfit. A grin lit up his features as he walked towards the table.

"Liv." Sam answered almost too quietly before the female reached her arms out as a welcoming hug which the male accepted with a grateful smile.

How long had it been? A year? Two? And a half? _What do I care?_ Besides, at the moment, he didn't care about anything else other than the warm feeling of being safe and sound within the arms of an old face. A familiar one especially, that of someone he remembered spending his childhood days with and had always been there to comfort him. And even if those days yonder had already passed within his reach, it still seemed the concern she had always held for him was still ever-alive. That he could only derive from the fact that when she had heard of what happened with the Triskelion, she had instantly hopped on a plane headed for D.C.

They both settled down on the table she had saved for them as Sam found himself at a loss for words. Where was he to begin? _Captain America came knocking on my door, asking for help, and who was I to resist?_

Fortunately, his sister chose to begin the conversation instead.

"What the hell were _you_ thinking?"

Alright, maybe he should have spoken first. Her words came out as a furious whisper. Sam swallowed, reaching for her hands on the table and squeezing them in his own. Liv gave out a sigh and the male forced a small smile on his lips. There was no way he could convince her that he was alright without having to spill some secrets.

"This shouldn't be anything new. I've been on worse m—"

"But _this_ had HYDRA written all over it! The stunts you pulled were in front of a whole state. Your previous missions were confidential and didn't have anything to do with a goddamn Nazi division. How was this any_ less_ worse?"

It was Sam's turn to sigh as he squeezed his sister's hands tighter. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, his mind frantic in a search for the right words to say, for her to no longer worry. Yes, he knew how dangerous it had been to deal with HYDRA but that was S.H.I.E.L.D. too. He couldn't exactly just sit in his house the whole time it happened, could he?

That was what he wanted to say to Liv but he knew that even if he explained and gave a good reason for every detail, she would still complicate things. How she always managed to find holes with worry still printed on her face had always fascinated him. _Didn't you think about that? What if this happened?_

"You want something to drink?" he blurted out instead. A ballad crooned softly from the corner of the bar and the place's atmosphere was becoming too . . . loose for his taste; he was expecting an agent from either HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D. to jump at him anytime now. Liv huffed but gave a nod still with closed eyes, and Sam was inwardly relieved at the extra time he would have to think while he would be away from her.

"Margarita," Liv said as he stood up from his chair. Upon reaching the counter, he gave Liv's order along with his own. As the bartender went to work, Sam sat himself a seat away from a man with his hands wringing each other. His eyes darted back and forth around the place; for a bar, its customers were still unusually few and quiet, but Liv had always known how to pick a place. Especially with a brother who just fought beside Captain America.

Then a tune disrupted the ballad. Sam glanced behind his shoulder to see his sister digging into her purse for her phone before answering it. Across the room, their eyes briefly met and Liv cocked her head towards the bar's door before heading for it, excusing herself.

_Great, more time._ The bartender neared him with the two drinks, placing both on the counter. For a brief moment, Sam merely stared at the margarita Liv had ordered, lost in his thoughts. He'd had days to think how the conversation with his sister would go but he never imagined how hard it'd actually be when the moment arrived. He reached for the shot glass, downing it in one take before groaning as he felt the alcohol burn down his throat.

A small _chink_ sound reached his ears and Sam glanced to his side to where another male was seated. His head was tucked in his arms while both hands held an empty shot glass. Quite tightly, Sam even noticed. From behind him, another soft chime rang through the bar, alerting everyone of a new arrival but Sam didn't have to look to know it wasn't his sister yet. The clicks of her kitten heels were absent and in their place were heavy footsteps of two people.

"World starts spinning fast enough and soon, everyone becomes a stranger." Sam sighed as his ears picked up the beginning of an argument between the two newcomers. Something about a new person, not spending enough time with each other, ignorance, et cetera. Hushed whispers escalated to ire tones both people desperately tried to keep down to no success. Still, Sam kept his gaze on his own shot glass before deciding to have another.

Sam heard another _chink_ come from the man beside him and he moved his head sideways at the slightest to meet his curiosity. He caught the man's grip tightening around the glass. Tighter, tighter, and tighter . . . Until Sam heard the glass crack.

_Tense._

The argument behind him escalated to frustrated shouts now, and it was beginning to get on Sam's nerves. He gave a glance behind his shoulder and, through the window, saw Liv still talking on her phone. Even she seemed to be caught up in a similarly heated conversation._Nothing I can do but wait._ He didn't really want to have to pass through the arguing couple just to get to the door then to his sister. Instead, Sam downed his third shot in one take again.

"_Hey!_ How 'bout you two guppies shut the hell up and go get a room somewhere?!"

_Guppies?_

A man barked from one corner of the bar towards the couple. For a moment, Sam thought they'd actually stop but to his dismay, the male of the couple shouted back along with a swear word or two. And from that point on, Sam knew things were about to get ugly.

But that didn't stop him from joining in, too.

"You wanna bash his teeth in? _Then just do it and be over wi_—"

A crash.

Everyone froze.

Sam couldn't breathe. He couldn't move — he was paralyzed. His heart pounded painfully in a frenzied panic. His back was pressed against the counter with the front of his shirt bunched up inside a fist. Silence reigned all over the bar as everyone held their breath, watching the scene unfold in front of them.

There was a clenched fist raised in the air, glinting ever so slightly. _Metal._ Sam stared motionlessly in silent shock at the face that hovered above him, mirroring the same expression on his face before it morphed to confusion then horror. He should have known.

He _should_ have known.

"Bucky?"

His voice was a trembling hushed tone, barely a whisper. Sam kept his gaze straight, straight at the soldier's eyes — a blue tormented stare, hazed with fear as Sam saw the rusty gears work in his mind. Memories, no doubt. None of them too good. Even Bucky was trembling, a bead of sweat travelling down his forehead as Sam practically felt the shivers creeping beneath his skin.

_I can help you. Provide shelter and information, keep you safe. We can help you._ Sam wanted to say a lot but his tongue held its place, a hidden hint somewhere in his mind saying that now wasn't the time. But then when? Where else —

He felt Bucky's grip on his shirt tighten.

"Stop coming after me."

The soldier emphasized each word, slow yet hard in a cold tone.

_Why?_

Sam lost the opportunity to reply however, as Bucky let go of him before swiftly and silently pushing through the crowd until he exited the bar. He barely registered his sister and the bartender supporting him as Sam's eyes followed Bucky's dark figure run away into the night. He barely registered Liv's frantic calls to bring him back. Sam was too absorbed in rewinding Bucky's words in his head, haunting him.

"Why?" he whispered.

_God, Steve's gonna lose it when he hears about this._

* * *

**[** 02:23 AM ━ March 29th, 2014 **]** Yarumal, Colombia

The crunch of gravel gave away his position as he cringed, eyes shutting tightly as he inwardly scolded himself — _stupid, stupid, stupid!_ — before he broke into a run towards the trees.

"Do you really have to make this easy for me?" he heard a sickly sweet voice call out to him, the voice of a person he never wished to face again. Trembling legs stumble over a protruding root, face landing first into the soil before he struggled to get up to shaky feet while his hands scrambled for the nearest fallen branch.

He _had_ been enjoying the night in peace — a can of beer in one hand while the remote sat in the other, his eyes trained on the screen as he absently flipped through channels until every press of a button resulted in the screen merely showing static. Irritation began to creep on him as he walked over to the television, smacking its side with the accompaniment of a string of curses flowing from his lips until he gave up. A moment had passed with his eyes still watching the dancing dots on the screen when he leaned in to take a sip from his can. Then the lights flickered off and the static ceased to a black nothing.

That was when he felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle and rise, a shiver rushing down his spine.

He wasted no time. He dropped the can on the floor as he reached for the gun hidden in a cabinet drawer, arms poised out to take a quick shot if there was, indeed, someone playing a sick prank or something on him. Call him paranoid, but he had every right to feel that way, especially after working with HYDRA in the past. Maybe staying off the radar wasn't as easy as he thought, after all.

Eyes dart around the different corners of the room before he went to check the kitchen. Clear. His bedroom came next. Clear as well. His last remaining options were outside his cabin, but he wasn't quite sure yet whether he wanted to risk his skin going out. What if the electricity had simply gone out? It was a frequent occurrence within the area he lived anyway. Still, a part of his mind screamed at him for acting like a chicken, and that was what did the trick.

He unlocked the front door and pulled it back in, fast. And when nothing but the cold night air biting his skin greeted him, he took in a steadying breath. Then he proceeded to look first on his right. It was his mistake to check that side first, as he was too late to move in retaliation when the corner of his eye caught a leg shooting out from the left side to kick the gun out of his grip.

He felt the adrenaline rush, his pulse quickening. He attempted to throw a punch at his attacker, yet failed to meet flesh as the stranger ducked. Everything that followed after had been a blur to him, only that he realized that his attacker was a female after swearing that he'd seen a ponytail flailing in the air after the stranger had ducked again and a feminine groan had reached his ears at two different points.

And then he came face-to-face with the stranger. The instant he recognized her, panic twisted his guts — of all the people he didn't want to cross again, this woman was one of the last.

"You?" he asked dumbly before being met with a punch straight to his face, a blow he failed to block. Staggering backward, a hand reached up to touch the warm liquid trickling down his nose before he quickly wiped it away along with a spit on the ground. There was venom in his gaze as he kept his eyes on the female.

"Well, well. Finally learned to fight back, Kasparova?"

Before his mind could process it, his back collided hard with a large tree's trunk, the sound of a crunch mixing with his own yelp of surprised pain, before he fell hard to the ground. Well, she most definitely didn't throw him _that_ hard and far now, did she? A woman of such a petite physique . . .

_No._

The moment the thought strayed into his mind, he started swearing to God that all it took for him to fly several feet away was just her strength and skills alone. Nothing more, nothing else. _Please._ Still, all assurance he tried to give himself failed to silence that one voice that kept on pressing that it took something _more_ than what mere strength the female possessed for him to be hurled like he was a mere stuffed bear.

"You learn how to push back, eventually." was her simple reply, said in a disturbingly calm voice for someone like her. Through a blurred haze, his eyes caught her figure walking towards him.

"And it took you, what, _seventy_ years to learn?" he spat back, supporting his body with his elbows as a hand cautiously and slowly took hold of a rock from the ground. He clutched it tightly in a fist as he glared with all his might at his attacker.

He could see that he had hit a nerve, judging how her jaw clenched at his reply. He didn't even suppress the smirk that curved his lips at seeing the tiniest flicker of another emotion in her eyes. What was that? Fear? Sadness? Shame? Oh, he'd love to taunt her if she didn't have the upper hand at the moment.

A groan left him when the female grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, his head lifting up to see her down on one knee in front of him as she forced him to look at her. He didn't resist, letting his eyes focus on her similarly venomous gaze, and took in a steadying breath when he was met with the stare of two hues colored a light shade of gray.

"You are one of HYDRA's best agents, are you not?" she asked, her words coming out barely above a whisper.

"_Were_. I'm retired, lady." he scoffed. A lie, of course. Once you started working for HYDRA, they never let you off a leash. Until you're dead, everyone who used to or still worked for HYDRA always stayed on the radar.

She acknowledged his reply with a slight tilt of her head to one side, lips parting a bit for a silent sigh to escape them. "Really? Are you now?"

Then he saw it, another flicker in her eyes. "Are you here to kill me?"

A twitch of her lips, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. But she resisted, keeping a calm expression painted on her face. "That would be too easy."

"Oh, for _you_ — I'm sure."

* * *

**[** 12:03 AM ━ April 12th, 2014 **]** Location Undisclosed

The loud ringing and vibration of a device stirred Natasha awake from her dream. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes with a hand, the shrill tone of her phone shook her back to reality. She reached for it over the vanity beside her bed, supporting her upper body with an elbow. Even as she reached for the ringing gadget, she couldn't erase the trace of emotion her dream had left. It still seemed as vivid as the day it happened, each detail and each word forever etched into her mind as long as she'll live. _Wisps of air escaping lips parted in shock. The cold gaze of the HYDRA agent. The metallic scent of blood from the trembling male beside her._

She switch her phone on and answered the call. "Stark, h—"

"You're gonna ask me how I got your number? Seriously? Me?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You better have a good reason to call me in the middle of the night."

"Hey, how would I know what time it is there?"

She gave out a huff of resignation, collapsing back on her head as she ran a hand through her hair. "_Stark_."

"Fine, fine. Not my problem someone's mad that I, Tony Stark, managed to find the world's best spy's phone while she's trying to hide out in God-knows-where."

"I'm not hiding out," Natasha stated, considering just turning off her phone before she attempted to have a go at another _dreamless_ sleep. "Why did you call?"

"Capsicle scoured through another of HYDRA's bases the other day. Well, an _old_ base, that is. And he found some files, some reports. Stroke of luck, I'd say. It was something about his guy best friend, I think — what was his name? Bunny, Buckley, Buckaroo —"

"Bucky Barnes," the spy provided for him, her interest piqued and attention now caught by Tony as she listened intently to his words.

"Yeah, yeah. Bucky Barnes," Natasha could hear him snapping his fingers in the background and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "He said something about Iran and . . . Odyssey? No, Odessa! You were mentioned, actually. You and a bunch of other HYDRA agents, the Winter Soldier included. So Steve asked me to find you the second he got back here."

Silence. Her dream came flashing back to her, of the meeting that preceded the car accident in Odessa. Where the Winter Soldier had scarred her while killing the man she had been assigned to protect. Ghosts of the past were being brought up and Natasha thought she had already braced herself for the worse but no.

It took her a moment before she could shake herself out of her thoughts and answer Tony, who had been miraculously patient at the other end.

"Stark, wh—"

"Wait, wait. Capsicle's told me to send you this picture of some chick. Hold on."

He ended the call. So that was why he had been 'miraculously patient.' _Figures._ Of course, someone else was talking to him on the other end while she was having a moment to compose her thoughts. Her phone's screen blinked to life again with another tone at the received message of an attachment. Natasha opened it, blinking as she watched the loading icon on her screen. Before the image could even load, Natasha already had a good guess of whose picture Tony had sent her. How could she forget? People like her never forget.

It was of rather poor quality, but it was better than nothing. It was obviously cropped from another picture, judging by the quality. And while it was snowing in the background, the female the picture featured was, oddly, wearing nothing else but a dress shirt beneath a waistcoat with a matching coat and pair of slacks. It was a side view of her figure that was shot in the picture but Natasha didn't need much more details to figure out what was going on during that moment. She was dressed for business while the others surrounding her all wore parkas.

_The cold gaze of the HYDRA agent. The metallic scent of blood from the trembling male beside her. The sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back._

_"Do you need a head start?"_

The traces of various shades of gray in the female's loose hair were unmistakable, a distinct detail to be taken note of. But the most distinctive trait the female had that Natasha noticed when she came face-to-face with her were hidden by the dark sunglasses she wore, effectively shielding her eyes during the time the picture was taken. The spy sighed.

In her hand, her phone vibrated with the same tone again. Natasha didn't hesitate to answer Tony's second call that night.

"Stark—"

"Natasha?"

She could cry out for how many times she had been interrupted on the phone now but she was caught off guard by the use of her first name. Natasha blinked. That wasn't Tony's voice.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, uh . . . Tony just went to answer another call."

Natasha couldn't be bothered by the whirlwind of emotions she had been thrown into as she shut her eyes tightly and sealed away her emotions. This was HYDRA they were talking about, way back before Project Insight. She really didn't need any of this at the moment, if she were to be honest even.

"Nat—"

She was the one to cut off his words this time. "Rogers, I know who the woman is in the picture."

Silence was her only response on the other end of the line. Natasha gave a silent sigh.

"Anastázie Kasparova."

* * *

**[** 02:31 AM ━ March 29th, 2014 **]** Yarumal, Colombia

"Oh, for _you_ — I'm sure."

The slight, almost unnoticeable curve of her lips vanished at his words, any sign of cool and calm leaving her face as her grip on his collar tightened.

That wasn't what she meant. _Too easy._ She failed to read whether he truly knew what she meant and was simply taunting her. She gritted her teeth at the smirk that had crossed his lips. _Too easy_. Killing had never been easy for her. She didn't want her hands dirty, stained with blood and death.

"Too easy for _you,_" she clarified, inching her face nearer to his. She could see the smug expression leave his features as dismay settled on his face. She did her best to ignore that little twisted part of her that enjoyed that moment. But it was too late for her to move when he swung an arm from his side towards her, his hand aiming for her head which he successfully injured, managing to stun and incapacitate her for a moment.

She fell on her head, clutching the side of her head with a hand as she spotted the rock her had used, stained with her own blood. The blow was not strong enough though — even she had sensed a feeble aspect to it along with the way his arm trembled before he struck her with it. She heard him running away, but not quite far. He hadn't left the area yet. How could he? By that time, she was sure he already knew what she was after. And being one of HYDRA's best and most loyal, he wasn't going anywhere until he obtained first the very item she was after.

"Son of a gun." she muttered under her breath, feeling the familiar thrum of power rushing to where she was injured, healing the wound in a matter of seconds until all that was left was blood caking her hair and skin. She blinked, touching the spot and unsurprised when she didn't feel a wound.

Getting to her feet, she could see out of the corner of her eye that the door to his cabin was still open at the same angle it was left at when she surprised him. He still hadn't gone inside. Why? Unless the item was hidden somewhere else . . .

"Do you really have to make this easy for me?" she taunted this time, using a voice so sweet she thought she might be dripping nectar the next second. Then her ears picked up the sound of a stumble and fall, giving away his position behind his home just before the woods grew vast. With a huff, she made her way to the trees, eyes searching for his figure amid the dark night. _Where is he?_

She decided to take a chance and walked towards the nearest grove of trees. Was she being played again? He couldn't have gotten away that fas—

Her answer came at the shadow of his form leaping down on her from one of the trees. In her shock, she simply shut her eyes close and instinctively focused all that she had at him, hurling him once again in another direction. Only this time, there was more damage — she heard the loud crack of several objects — _including_ _bones, maybe?_ — and a short yelp of pain as she blinked her eyes open and saw him crumble face-first into the gravel before chunks and planks of wood followed him. The wall of his poor cabin had taken the impact, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the briefest of moments.

She didn't mean to be _that_ strong . . .

And then the toll came. Her legs gave away and she fell on her knees, a hand reaching up to touch the area beneath her nostrils, where warm blood had began to trickle. She took in a steadying breath as she forced herself to focus, staring at the blood that dotted her fingers. _Focus_, she scolded herself, blinking hard as she began to feel unconsciousness beginning to tug at the corners of her mind. Her head throbbed in pain and chills crept beneath her skin. Cold. Pain.

It wasn't the first time that night that she used her strength.

_Focus._

Gritting her teeth with a groan, she struggled to gain back her balance as she pushed herself up back to her feet. She unsteadily made her way towards the male as she wiped her bleeding nose with sleeve of her jacket. She heard the male whimper and gasp for breath as she watched him do his best to get up but fail. A groan left him as his body slumped back to the ground with broken wood boards piled on top of him.

"Agent Kane Gerard Winston—"

"Anastázie V-vera . . . Kasparova," he cut off, managing to curve his lips into a smile at the mention of his full name with the 'agent' part. But his smile was anything but friendly — it was positively acid and it made the female halt in her steps.

"Are . . . you here t-to kill . . . me?"

He echoed the same question he asked earlier but this time, his tone was devoid of fear and he seemed far from taunting her. She kept a straight face on yet struggled to read his expression — was it of defeat? Triumph? She knew he wanted this and she guessed it was partially so he could be free of HYDRA. Another guess was so he could finally prove that killing him would indeed be easy for her. But no.

Vera didn't want to give him that pleasure.

She didn't want death for him either. It would be too easy for _him_, not after all those years of doing HYDRA's wicked bidding, no. Leaving him broken and bruised for the moment was better, so he could suffer. So she could just face him again another day.

"No," she answered, swallowing hard as she looked over his bruised form. He wasn't even struggling anymore.

"I'm here to send a message. I know they never let you go so I'm sure they'll be wondering what happened to you." Vera continued, blinking at how calm her words came. Weak. Tired. But still, not a trace of any other emotion in her voice. She sounded apathetic but truly, she was caught up in a myriad of emotions she was trying so hard to suppress.

"I want you to live so you can tell HYDRA what's coming for them. That I'm coming for them, " Vera exhaled, looking him dead in the eye as he strained to crane his neck and keep eye contact. He was listening intently, no doubt. "They kept me and molded me to be their weapon. But I wasn't born to be controlled."

She could hear Kane try to suppress a laugh but fail in doing so. A strangled laugh left him as Vera smiled tightly, one that lacked humor, as she bent on one knee in front of him. "Really?" he sneered, and Vera narrowed her eyes at his audacity.

"If I was, I would've come with a remote."

She landed a quick blow to the side of his face; Kane was too shocked to react as he rested his head on the gravel, left in silence to process her words as Vera stood up and stalked towards his cabin. The door had changed angles — a breeze had arrived to cool the thick atmosphere and she was thankful for it. She entered the cabin and much to her dismay, was greeted by darkness. But she wasn't about to complain, she caused it and it was all part of her plan. What little moonlight that seeped through the windows would suffice as she began to rummage through drawers and shelves.

Vera swore under her breath. If she had to overturn the whole cabin to find those files, then so be it. She crossed the living room and spared a glance at the gaping hole in the wall, where Kane met impact with the wooden boards and now laid beneath piled wood. She could still see him breathing ever so lightly, _feel_ him still struggling for air. She had to hurry — who knew whether there were hidden cameras or mics in the nooks and crannies of his home.

When she was finished with the kitchen, Vera proceeded to the bedroom. The area was bare, save for a bed, closet, and a nightstand. Sighing, she walked to the bed first and lifted the mattress as much as she could before moving it aside. Nothing but dust went up in the air. She gave a cough then checked the stand next. Just an alarm clock. He didn't even have a phone! And Vera had hoped that she wouldn't need to interrogate him. She hoped she wouldn't reach that point - she was no longer in the mood to play games.

She was about to take a stride towards the closet when a creak in the wooden boards stopped her dead in her steps. But it wasn't the sound that made her stop but the shift of a single board beneath her, as she put her weight back on the heel of one foot and heard the wood groan again. She glanced down and saw that the piece's end has sunken a bit. Could it be?

She took a few steps back until the board was whole in her sight. Unlike the rest in the house, this one had been wedged out of its place and back more than once. Getting down one knee, Vera cautiously proceeded to lift the plank up from its spot, stirring dust in the air once again. She was met with a bare spot on the floor. A dark gaping hole where the wood was supposed to be, and hidden inside it was a single folder.

Huffing as relief washed over her, she found her fingers itching as it hovered over the hole, hesitation tugging at her mind as Vera stared blankly at the darkness. She waved the feeling of doubt away and reached straight for what was hidden in the hole. Her hand met a cobweb yet she couldn't care less. A sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the room as her fingers came in contact with the cool surface of something.

She grasped it and gently lifted it out of its place. A folder. Her eyes landed on the string tying it together with the papers it kept and she felt a chill run up her spine. That, too, she willingly ignored as she unwound the string.

Saba, Lebanon, Greece, Philippines, Belize, Sokovia, Tuvalu, Colombia, Malta, Hong Kong . . . Every single word her eyes ran over was like a blow to her head. Since when did HYDRA regain more bases? Even if some of them were no longer in use, it was still a big list, and Vera couldn't help it when her knee buckled underneath her weight. She winded up on the floor, clutching tightly to the papers with an intake of breath as her mind processed the overwhelming amount of new information.

Vera sighed. She didn't remember HYDRA being this strong, this . . . powerful, again. Seeing them in this state had become horribly unfamiliar, the memory of them being in power back in 1944 long dug deep in the back of her mind, forgotten. With a huff, she reeled herself back to reality. She furiously stuffed back the files in the folder before putting the plank back in its place then marching out of the cabin.

She came back to the same scene she left — Kane still down on the gravel beneath the broken pieces of wood. A soft groan left him as Vera walked towards him, the cold night air biting the skin of her neck now that she moved so little.

"They're gonna come after you." he spat out, his eyes hazed with a feverish rage that Vera responded with a mere blink of her eyes. _Of course._HYDRA would always come after her, and she doubted that they'd stop.

"I know." came her quiet reply, her face a blank canvas. "But I won't let them."

She turned her back to him, feet crunching on the gravel the only sound echoing around her besides Kane's heavy breathing. Her clutch on the folder was so tight she was sure her nails were digging into the material. And that the folder would be crumpled before she even left the woods. Vera let out a quiet sigh of relief, counting the times her heart beat until it returned to its normal pace. _Calm. Keep calm._

Until Kane let out a delirious laugh after her. It was enough to make her almost stop in her tracks.

Almost.

It was his next words that made her stop dead.

"Then they're gonna send _him_ after you."

_Calm. Keep calm._

But she had already lost count as her pulse escalated painfully. Quiet rage seeped into her veins and she gritted her teeth. Suddenly, she was suffocating again, lungs lacking air with her heart stuck in her throat.

There was no need to involve him in _her_ mess.

So she quietly continued her way out of the woods without another word nor a glance. Kane let out more ragged laughs behind her, echoing a haunting fact that was stamped in Vera's mind.

That HYDRA would send the Winter Soldier after her.

* * *

Author's Note: I hope I didn't send anyone's mind aching after that. Again, sorry for the long wait. I planned to update this way back in February but school caught up too quickly to me. Not to mention, the wild weather and lack of muse. Before I knew it, I no longer had the energy and time to write this chapter. But, hey, it's done now! No promises, but I'll try my best to make updates more regular on a steady schedule. Now, please review? I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback, they mean a lot to me.


	3. Run From Wolves

Author's Note: Was waiting for the next update for as long as four months too long or too hard? If so, sorry! Anyways, here's the latest chapter. Consider it a gift now that Christmas is approaching. Happy holidays to everyone!

* * *

_**( **_· **STEEL SILVER **· _**)**_

— TWO —

_and i run from wolves_  
_tearing into me without teeth_

* * *

**[** 10:03 PM ━ April 12th, 2014 **]** New York City, New York

_Anastázie Kasparova._

_Who are you?_

The name looped around his mind as Steve searched for the ring of a bell. But no, the name Natasha had just given him was in no way familiar to him. He wasn't even sure if it'd be useful information.

He'd hoped that maybe after he sent the picture, the spy would tell him more than just a name. He'd seen the file the picture had gone along with, the words 'Odessa, Ukraine' written on the papers. Wasn't that where Natasha had escorted an engineer years ago?

Steve was crestfallen. More than a week had already passed since the events from Project Insight and all he had been able to do, with Tony's help, was track down several HYDRA bases so far. Some of them had already even been marked as no longer in use. They had already made an admirable list, and Steve was quite satisfied, but it wasn't enough. The fact that there was still no sign of Bucky since Project Insight made his heart sink lower each day that passed. Eventually, he had to leave to Sam the task of finding the Winter Soldier, the moment Tony asked for him in New York to be able to work better on ridding HYDRA from the world.

He'd hoped he would have a lead after a conversation with Natasha and yet their conversation had been short. All she had given was a name. And when Steve tried pressing for more information about the picture, Natasha had only deflected his questions.

He was almost sure that there was something about the picture that Natasha refused to talk about.

"_Hey._"

A hard voice called out to Steve, shattering the pensive mood he'd decided to trap himself in, as he looked up to see Tony walking towards him. Yet upon seeing the severe look on Tony's face, Steve stopped toying with the phone in his hands and fixed his slouched posture.

He hated how his guts sensed what was wrong almost immediately.

Gripped tightly in one of the genius's hand was a slim and transparent invention of his, what people would refer to as a touch pad. When Tony was a mere few feet away from Steve, he stopped walking and swiped at his pad, away from himself towards the large screen in front of them. Several files, pictures, and articles glowed on the screen.

Steve gritted his teeth. His expression hardened.

Pictures of Howard and Maria Stark. An article about Howard and Maria Stark. Separate files of Howard and Maria Stark. Grainy pictures of the Winter Soldier. Files about a mission accomplished by the Winter Soldier.

It was like a nightmare came back to haunt him. To taunt him.

"So when were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Steve snapped.

"Now's not the time, Rogers. You _know_ what I'm talking about." Tony's voice was stern, low; he glared at the soldier with eyes that demanded answers.

Steve stood up and left his phone on the seat, letting out a silent sigh as he looked away from Tony. "I'm amazed it took you this long."

Tony gave out a scoff, a humorless smile curving his lips for a second. "You're lucky it took me this long. You're lucky it took JARVIS this long to dig out these. You're lucky I got to help you before I found out that this . . . _killer's_ the same one that killed my parents —"

"Listen, Stark —"

"_Listen?_" Tony raised his voice unflinchingly, taking steps towards Steve. "He killed my parents in cold blood and you didn't even bother telling me. So much for having trust on the team, hm? So why should I listen?"

Steve could see the man was threatening to blow up any moment. A ticking time-bomb. And he could see that he might have possibly lit the fuse after so long.

"We're all killers, Stark." he calmly replied, out of words to say as he switched his stare to the floor; there was no way he could hold Tony's searing gaze any longer. It was so much easier to look at his feet instead. What else was there to say? Should he even _dare_ to say anything at all? A part of him told him that he had no right, after using Stark this long to find the same man who killed Howard and Maria.

Tony began to take slow, heavy steps toward's Steve's spot. "That's right, we're all killers," he answered, a cold voice lacking emotion taking place as he spat out the words with venom. "But we're also Avengers."

It took a moment for Steve to process Tony's words, what with the myriad of emotions that had deeply rooted themselves in his heavy heart the moment he realized how the Winter Soldier made a turning point in Tony's world. It only pained him more when he realized what Tony meant.

_We're Avengers. We avenge._

"He didn't know what he was doing," Steve answered, voice getting dangerously low as his gaze flickered back to Tony with a new fire. He stood his ground as Tony stopped a feet away from him. "HYDRA brainwashed him. They took his humanity away. They took _who_ he was away."

Another scoff from Tony. Steve clenched his fist. "But of course, he's your best friend," Tony mocked. "How sure are you even that he was blindly following orders then? Or that he consciously knew what he was ordered to do, huh?"

"I _just_ know." Steve snapped, taking a step forward. "He would never willingly do —"

"But you don't know, Rogers!"

Steve forced himself to shut his mouth, to listen.

"Who are _you_ to say that you know? Fury didn't even know HYDRA was under his nose the whole goddamn time!" Tony raised his voice. "Barnes was a soldier like you. And war changes men. You and him _barely_ spent quality time together before he fell from the train. Who are you to say that he didn't changed then? What more _now_, after decades of being in captivity, after HYDRA did God-knows-what to him — who are you to know that he was simply following orders? You _don't_ even know what and how they exactly did something to him!"

Steve had no reply for him.

Here, he had an ally, albeit not one he was always in good terms with. And now, Steve had just made an enemy out of Tony Stark — genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Iron Man. Avenger. Teammate. Already, his world fell apart when he discovered Bucky, his best friend, to be alive and HYDRA still thriving in the shadows, using him as a tool. Now, his already bleak world was yet crumbling apart again. Steve had, once again, he feared, made a new enemy.

"Have you — have you ever thought about, what if, the Winter Soldier shouldn't be found?" Tony asked in a lower voice, posture relaxing in the slightest bit after a moment had passed. "Like, at all?"

"If I don't find him, someone else will," Steve answered quietly. "And they don't have the best intentions for him."

"Look, I ad— it's admirable, what you're doing. But what if it's _him_ who doesn't want to be found?"

"Then that only means that he's aware of what he's done," Steve snapped.

"_Exactly_. He's aware, he knew." Tony snapped back. "What did I tell you, Rogers? You don't know for sure."

Tony's words left the soldier speechless. The hurt in his chest grew bigger. A silent sigh was all that left Steve, gaze switching back to his feet. He was too tired, too damn _tired_ for all that was happening.

"So much for being a team," he heard Tony muse aloud before a short, humorless chuckle escaped him.

A moment of silence passed between them before Tony broke it.

"I'm not sorry, Cap. But you're on your own."

* * *

**[** 03:35 AM ━ April 2nd, 2014 **]** Macon, Georgia

She knew this feeling so well.

The moment she stepped out of the drugstore, she felt it. There was a sensation in her head that she could only describe as numbing. She thought she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Her stomach dropped.

Vera was too familiar with the feeling of being watched. And the moment she realized she was being watched, she wanted to grit her teeth, clench a fist. But that would only give her away ━ even a mere blink of her eyes could be enough to get her killed at the moment. _Anxiety._ So when she left the drugstore, she didn't even hesitate nor stop for a second. She kept a steady pace in her steps as she walked away on the sidewalk.

Tearing out of its wrapper a gummy bear, Vera calmly popped it into her mouth; she even took the time to properly dispose the wrapper in a trash can. _What a waste_, she thought. She had bought it in hopes of calming her nerves, anxiety always crawling into her skin every ten minutes. But as she chewed it in her mouth, her nerves only wracked more at the knowledge of the presence of her pursuer.

She resisted the urge to look behind her, to glance at every building or face she passed by. _Don't give yourself away._ The words looped around her head endlessly as she did her best to keep her gaze straight ahead. But it was getting harder to do so with every second that passed. And it didn't take a genius to know who was following her.

Vera couldn't even risk scratching her neck. Or maybe she just didn't want to. This was the Winter Soldier after her. And she knew so well how he could shoot her in plain daylight and how he could still get away with it. And yet, it wasn't getting shot in the gut or in the head that worried her most. It was losing consciousness, and the feeling of waking up to the same old white walls of a cell in a HYDRA base. Fear. Powerlessness. Above all things, Vera knew she couldn't let that happen to her.

But before anything should happen, she had to make sure there no possible victims or witnesses around.

Relief came over her when her eyes spotted the opening to an alley between two desolate-looking buildings. Subtlety be damned; Vera quickened her pace and pocketed her hands, turning to the alley. And when she heard the heavy footfalls behind her accompanied by a very, very faint humming of gears, she knew.

_Swift and silent. A shadow. A ghost._

Her ears picked up next the faintest sound of soft rustling. He was reaching for a gun. Vera kept walking. Then she began to count. _One, two, three._

HYDRA trained her for this, too.

The moment she ducked and turned on her heel, the sound of a shot rung out in the alley at the same time. And before the asset could pull on the trigger again, she felt it course in her veins. Vera clenched her fists and the asset let out a short yelp, dropping the gun as he gripped his right wrist at the sudden tightening pain she had caused. His leg came next to go against his will, kicking his gun far behind him until it reached the street. A car immediately ran over it.

Vera's mind screamed at her to run but she knew all too well that she could never outrun the Winter Soldier.

A leg flew in her direction. After his foot landed on her, pain was all Vera knew. She flew back, her back hitting the pavement as she let out a short, sharp cry. But something inside her got rid of it all in a matter of seconds and she got to her feet as quickly as she can once she saw the asset taking steps toward her.

She kicked, he blocked. He punched, she ducked. It was routine for Vera and for the Winter Soldier. Or it used to be. They no longer had cameras focused on them nor eyes watching them behind two-way mirrors. Again, it was all too familiar for Vera that she almost forgot about playing dirty.

And as if the asset had read her mind, he took out his pocket knife and Vera backed away just enough for his knife to miss her by half an inch. Dodge. Block. Duck. It was with much difficulty that she kept on avoiding his attacks before she finally regained focus. Then she made his hand throw the knife forward, as she ducked, and it flew straight to hit a distant garbage can.

"Stop ━" the word breathlessly slipped from her lips without Vera meaning to. And he heard her, standing still as he stared at her. Vera looked back straight at him and read all the rage radiating from him, from his gritted teeth and cold eyes to his clenched fists and rigid posture. And then she dared to wonder if he remembered her at all.

But Vera already knew the answer to her own question.

_I'm sorry._ She wanted to apologize but it would be meaningless. The Winter Soldier wouldn't understand.

And in one swift motion with all her might, Vera moved her hands in the air in a gesture of pushing something to the side. Swift and agile. Yet powerful. And a few feet away from her, the asset followed her will, hitting his head hard against the concrete wall of a structure.

Calculated. She knew how strong enough she had to be just to knock out the Winter Soldier. But guilt overcame her still, unable to bear seeing him lose consciousness before collapsing to the ground as Vera silently watched with wide eyes. When his eyes had closed, she rushed to him, got down on her knees, and hovered a hand above him. How had HYDRA done it, carved out a man from his person to leave only his skills in a hollow shell?

When she sensed no damage that HYDRA couldn't fix, Vera stood up and allowed a sigh of relief to escape her. She hadn't wanted to do it. Not to the only friend she had when HYDRA imprisoned her. She had to keep reminding herself over and over again that this man in front of her was a different person. And that it was utterly important that HYDRA didn't recapture her, no matter the cost.

Vera then turned her back on him, jogging away from the unconscious body without sparing another glance behind. When she had turned away from the alley, she began to quietly count until her racing heart had calmed. She was sure it wouldn't be long after HYDRA agents would come to fetch the soldier. HYDRA always had a tracker on their agents, didn't they?

After that thought dawned at her, Vera ran.

* * *

**[** 11:16 AM ━ April 13th, 2014 **]** Washington, D.C.

"Stop coming after me."

It wasn't a question, Sam realized, as he looked up at Steve who had a pensive look printed on his face. His hands were jammed into his pockets and he was standing very still, his stare burning into the ground as Sam followed it to see whatever made the grass so interesting.

After the encounter with the Winter Soldier the other night, Sam called Steve the moment the opportunity rose (which was after spending three days talking to his sister) and Steve hopped onto a plane to D.C. in a heartbeat.

"But why?" Steve added as Sam switched his gaze back at the newspaper he held in his hands. He skimmed the paper Steve had brought to the park when Sam asked to meet him about Bucky, articles regarding the Winter Soldier's real identity covering the pages.

"I'm as confused as you," he answered, flipping to the next page with a look of dismay on his page. "I didn't even know he was in the bar in the first place."

_Ghost Story or Man Back From the Dead?_ one article's title said, a sigh leaving Sam at the terrible inaccuracy of the article as he read it. As if the title wasn't horrible enough on its own. He could only imagine how hard it must be for Steve to read the newspaper. Even if the writers guessed the Winter Soldier's identity correctly, their theories were appalling. Some claimed that Bucky turned against his best friend out of envy and came to HYDRA; some wrote it wasn't actually Bucky and simply an impostor to taunt Captain America. And even if the writers had completely different theories, they were only more infuriating.

"Dude, how can you read this?" Sam questioned, giving a scoff. Also an attempt to lighten the mood. Steve glanced at him and merely arched a brow. "I can't exactly tell them off now, can I?" he replied along with a soft chuckle before looking back at the ground.

"I get it," Sam muttered, flipping through the pages for another moment before finally quitting. "At least we know he's in the same city as we are," he mused to change the topic to, well, a similarly troubling one. At least it was one that was way more important, the case of a missing person. "I wonder why he didn't leave."

"He doesn't want us to come after him but he's still sticking around?" Steve sighed.

"Who's sticking around?"

A new yet familiar voice broke the heavy mood between the two men as both looked up at the newcomer. With silent yet deadly grace, the one and only Natasha Romanoff sauntered towards them.

On any other encounter with the spy, Steve wouldn't be surprised the slightest bit. She'd be wearing that trademark smirk of hers, just a slight curl of her lips that made it look like she knew something he didn't. There was always something calm and cool about how she walked in a straight line, yet still tense and ready to spring into action if danger came her way. All of those, Steve always expected of her when she managed to find him. But this time, there was one thing he didn't expect.

Gone was the long, red hair she had when he last saw her. Natasha had changed them for blonde, lithe waves.

"Don't start drooling now, soldier."

Sam gave out a chuckle as Natasha gave Steve a pat on the shoulder as she passed by him. The soldier took a brief moment to process her words before realizing his mouth had been hanging open the whole while Natasha made her way towards them. He instantly shut his mouth close, turning to face the spy who had began to converse with Sam.

"Should I bother asking how you got here?" he asked, a grin stretching across his features as he walked towards the two.

"I think you already know how, Cap." Natasha answered with an arched brow. "Anyways, I came after you and Stark gave me a call in the middle of the night."

"The middle of the night? I had no idea," Steve defended as he scratched his neck.

"Don't work it up. You didn't know where I was, anyway."

"Wait, so is surprising us now kind of, like, payback for what Stark did?" Sam butted in, pointing two fingers at the spy.

"Maybe," she shrugged, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I did use your phone to find you, just like Stark did. Still, won't take a genius to find out that you haven't moved from D.C. yet if _someone's_ still sticking around."

And just like that, the lighthearted tone Natasha had brought with her arrival was shattered by the same woman. Silence fell between the three and the hard look returned to Steve's face.

"It's Bucky. He . . . _lunged_ at Sam in a bar," Steve began, his hands returning to his pockets as well. "Told him to stop coming after him."

"I didn't even know the dude was sitting beside me, let alone inside the bar." Sam added, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Stop coming after him?" Natasha repeated. "Then that only means that he's been keeping eyes on either of you two while both of you we're looking for him, at the same time."

"Someone took cat and mouse too seriously." Sam piped up.

"But I don't get it. He doesn't want us after him but he's still . . . here."

"That happens," Natasha said with a knowing look on her face. "Looking for clues, maybe? It's not hard to find a man trying to chase his past. Maybe you still can't find him because all this time, he's always behind you and you're not even bothering to look behind."

A moment of silence overcame the three for the two men to dwell on the spy's words before Sam was the first to speak again.

"Or maybe, you're just really the best of us three when it comes to this thing."

A smirk tugged on her lips but Natasha stayed silent. She sent a brief glance behind her shoulder before turning back to the two, giving a small smile.

"Just so you two know, by the way, we're being watched."

Steve's eyes narrowed in confusion; Sam's lips parted in surprise. Natasha's words began to dawn on them after the glance behind her shoulder.

_You're not even bothering to look behind._

Steve didn't even try resisting his instincts. He gave in to the urge of looking around the park, eyes darting at every corner and spot. "Bucky," he whispered, taking a few steps forward before Natasha held him back, trapping his arms in a surprisingly steel grip.

"You wouldn't want to startle him now, would you, Cap?" she whispered, Steve glancing at her with a questioning look in his eyes.

"Who was he following?" Sam asked, nearing the spy and the soldier. "Us or you?"

"Both of you," Natasha replied. "Spotted him leaning against the tree, looking too tense for someone who should be relaxing. Wore a cap and a hoodie, left hand inside his pocket. Lowered his head when I passed by the tree —"

"Where's the tree? _Where is he?_" Steve pressed, struggling against Natasha before Sam neared them and pulled him away from Natasha's grip by his shoulders.

The moment Sam tore Steve away from her grip, she glanced behind her shoulder again. Her eyes instantly found the tree, several feet away, where she had spotted Bucky leaning against. And a feet away from it was a man with his head bowed down, quietly walking away from the tree. Natasha swore under her breath.

"You got him all riled up now," Natasha sighed, facing back Steve and Sam only to have Steve push through, bumping her shoulder, before leaving them behind. Sam could only shake his head before Natasha beckoned him to follow behind Steve.

"Bucky!" Steve shouted after the man, who continued walking but with a faster pace the moment Steve called for him. Steve quickened his pace as well to keep up with the Winter Soldier, who had begun to push past civilians in the park, if only to avoid Steve. And Steve realized, it was as if he didn't want to be found.

_But what if it's him who doesn't want to be found?_

Tony's words came back to him, and so did Natasha's words, as Steve glanced behind to see the spy with Sam trailing him a few feet behind. Worry was evident on Sam's face and on Natasha's too, only it was more cleverly veiled with a serious facade. Then he saw Sam's head move in the slightest bit, shaking twice. _Don't_.

Steve had no reply to the gesture. He merely gritted his teeth and faced Bucky back, only to see his figure bolting from the park.

No. _No._ Damn him if he was going to let his best friend out of his sight again.

So Steve ran after him. No thoughts, just action. He didn't even bother being polite to the civilians he nearly bumped into while running. He didn't even bother looking behind him to see if Natasha and Sam were running after him too. All that was on his mind was Bucky. Bucky, who was running. Bucky, who was lost. Bucky, who needed a home. Not for a single second did Steve let his eyes leave Bucky's running figure.

And before he knew it, he was out of the park and on the sidewalk. Bucky stood in the middle road and it was too late, the scream that tore through Steve's throat as he called out to him.

"_Bucky!_"

A split-second's hesitation. Bucky could've looked back at Steve had it not been for the car's screeching halt. The single car on the road that arrived at the exact moment Bucky decided to run across the street. Steve could've stopped it from happening. He could have, he could have. But instead, he stayed paralyzed and rooted to his spot on the sidewalk, eyes wide with fear. Steve could only watch as the car would hit the Winter Soldier, and he braced himself ━

Only, it doesn't come.

He was fast. It was like on the highway, all over again. It was like with the car Steve occupied with Sam and Natasha then. Only, it's not. Because _that_ was the Winter Soldier and _this_ was Bucky.

And before there's impact, Bucky just launched himself off the ground with his feet. He somersaulted. But this time, unlike before, his fingers just don't latch to the car's roof. Instead, he flew over the car and back onto the concrete road, and Steve expects him to land on both feet with the same manic energy and agility as before. Only, he didn't.

Bucky landed on his side, and there's an accompanying groan as a soundless gasp leaves Steve's own lips.

No. _No_. This wasn't the Winter Soldier, who Steve fought against on the highway that day, on the Helicarrier in the air. Tony was _wrong_. Because instead of the terrifying ferocity and the radiating intensity, all that was present were horrified confusion and cold fear on Bucky's face as he shakily stood up from the ground.

"Steve ━"

He heard Sam's voice call out to him but it's not enough to shake him out of his thoughts, to get his eyes off the scene in front of him. Not even when he felt a hand land on his shoulder to hold him back.

The car that almost hit Bucky had stopped several feet away. Steve quietly watched the scene unfold, with Sam holding him back, as the driver climbed out and jogged towards Bucky.

"Hey, man. I'm ━ I'm sorry . . . oh God . . . You okay?"

Steve didn't know why but he was still holding his breath.

* * *

When Natasha said they were being watched, she didn't mean just the amnesiac assassin hiding behind a tree.

She had wanted to correct Steve's assumption, properly without stirring too much panic, but it was just too late for her to do so when he bolted after his best friend.

And now, she too was running after him, both she and Sam doing their best to keep up with the super soldier. And when they had arrived to the scene of Barnes, stunned in the middle of the road, with Steve watching silently, she had the mind to check their surroundings first.

Disregarding the two soldiers, Sam, and the witnesses of the near-accident, everything seemed . . . quiet enough. _Too_ quiet even, Natasha observed. The driver of the car that almost hit Barnes was now busy asking about the assassin, who still had the same expression on his face, while Steve was still tense despite having Sam by his side now.

A car with an open hood was parked not too far, on the side of the opposite street. The people surrounding it, who Natasha assumed were the car's passengers, were now paying attention to the scene before them. After some scrutiny, the spy noted that the car had broken down.

"Leave me . . . alone ━" she heard someone say weakly, only to turn her head and see a still disoriented Barnes struggling to his feet, while the driver backed a step away as Steve began to take small steps towards the amnesiac. Sam was still trying to stop Steve, albeit hesitantly and weakly. Natasha decided to stay behind.

It was out of the corner of her eye when she caught the smallest of movements of one of the civilians surrounding the broken car. A hand slowly slinking into his jacket. She caught the same movement from the driver, once Steve was merely a feet away from Barnes.

And then it happened.

The broken car backfired. The man quickly pulled a gun from his jacket and pointed it at Steve, finger resting on the trigger, only for Barnes to disarm and knock him unconscious in swift movements. Then he took the gun for himself. It was evident that the driver had taken Steve and Sam by surprise, hence the lack of response from both men. Luckily for them, Barnes was there. Natasha noted the assassin was no longer dazed but instead had a hard and cold look in his eyes. But something about him still radiated hints of confusion and fear.

The car backfired again. "Now!" someone screamed. The spy saw the civilians surrounding the car spread out, armed with guns and moving fast. Natasha moved faster, running towards the three in the middle of the street, reaching for the two guns she hid within her person and throwing both towards Steve's and Sam's directions. As they caught both guns, Natasha skidded to a stop and went on her knees, stopping in front of the unconscious driver to search him for an extra weapon. Finding another gun beneath a pant leg, she switched the safety off then got up.

She didn't know if she should count Barnes but for now, it seemed that he was on their side. It was the four of them against . . . eleven? Weren't there just four civilians surrounding the broken car? Natasha then decided to assume that the other seven either came from the park or from around the bend.

"HYDRA?" she heard Sam mutter at her side.

"Seems like it." Natasha answered.

A scream came from back in the park, but none of the agents budged and kept their sight and focus on the four of them.

She gave a brief glance to her other side where Steve stood beside Barnes. Then her eyes darted back and forth between the HYDRA agents. Each agent held a gun and pointed it at their direction. _Eleven agents_. Frankly, Natasha could fight her way out of this even if she was alone. But there was a lot more to consider than getting out of this mess quickly and safely. Like defenseless civilians, other agents hidden in position, snipers in the distant buildings, and more.

She didn't even know which of the two soldiers HYDRA was really after ━ Steve or Barnes or, worse, both.

"Why don't we just do this the easy way, yeah?" a man spoke up in a menacing tone, shaking his gun in Steve's direction. "Lower your weapons and surrender, hm? And no one gets hurt."

Back in the park, the spy could see people running away in frenzied panic. A commanding voice rang out, shouting at everyone to leave the park. Threats were shouted but not a single shot was fired. Natasha allowed herself the smallest comfort of knowing that there were no casualties so far. But that wasn't enough; she knew so well that HYDRA couldn't care less about civilian lives getting caught in the crossfire.

"_Что бы босс сказал, если он видел это?_ _Нам поворотах Капитан Америка, черная вдова, Сокол и актива?_"

_What would the boss say if he saw this? Us cornering Captain America, the Black Widow, Falcon, and the asset?_

Natasha watched and listened with a still expression as an agent quietly conversed with another, a sneer on his features as a smirk grew on the other's face. There was a hint of accent but she couldn't quite figure out whether the agent was really Russian, using the spy's mother tongue to show off to a fellow agent, or taunting both her and Barnes (whom she knew understood Russian too).

"What do you want?" came Steve's authoritative voice to ask the man who had spoken earlier.

The agent's lip curled, a mocking expression on his face. "Not what we want, Captain, but _who_ we want," he replied. "You, of course. Along with your friend there."

She looked in Barnes' direction only to see the hardened jaws and widened eyes of a tamely furious expression on his face. In front of these HYDRA agents, he was like an animal ━ his entire body trembled ever so slightly with his long dark hair framing his face in sweaty clumps. Defenseless. Scared. Trapped. But at the same time, he was agitated. Natasha was all too familiar with these feelings and quietly sympathized with him, yet she remained still and did no other action other than to look back at the agent in charge.

"Fine, take me but only if you let them go," Steve answered.

"You? Only you? And what makes you even think you're even in a position to negotiate? Look around you, Captain! You're already surrounde━"

Another scream came from the park. But this time, some of the agents gave their attention to the scream and Natasha knew why; it came from one of theirs, the one who was shouting a minute ago at everyone to leave the park.

At this, the spy took the opportunity to get Steve's attention, but she no longer needed to. She looked at Steve only to see Steve already looking at her.

"What the hell?" the agent shouted, looking at the park's direction for a brief moment, before pointing to the two agents at his tail. "Hey, you two, go see what's going on with Davis back there."

While the agent gave out the command, Natasha whispered to Steve, "Steve, get Barnes out of here. These men won't think twice anymore about shooting him if things get out of hand."

"I'm not leaving you and Sam behind." Steve replied stubbornly.

"Then move fast and come back for us if you don't want to ━"

Natasha's words were cut off by a single shot from the park, again. She whipped her head in that direction and worry settled on her features, lips tightening as she swallowed.

The negotiating agent became furious, then shouted behind the two agents he commanded earlier, who had stopped at the sound of the fired shot. "Alcott, McTavish, move it! Check on Davis ━"

"I _swear_ to God, stay away or I'll shoot _again!_" a terrified voice was heard shouting faintly. It was Davis.

The two agents, Alcott and McTavish, set off on a quicker pace and ran towards the park after that.

Was there a third party? Natasha surveyed their surroundings again. A small part of her even thought that perhaps it was S.H.I.E.L.D. come to rescue them but she crushed that hope in a heartbeat, not daring to consider it. Her heart began to hammer in her chest. For a fact, she knew HYDRA agents weren't even _that_ scared whenever they faced S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents. Of course, there was the possibility of the agent in the park simply being a coward but it was just too ridiculous to even think of. There was another possibility though, but part of her wanted to refuse thinking of it because she didn't know in the slightest what she would even do if this possibility turned out the be the right one.

Then one, two, three shots rang out from the park. The agents surrounding them visibly tensed.

"_Stay away!_ Don't you understand? _Jdi ode mně pryč! _Get away from me!" Davis shouted again.

There was a pause. Then a single shot echoed in the park.

Even Natasha flinched at the sound. There were no civilian casualties but HYDRA now had one. And she still didn't even know who these people were. People from her past weren't ones she could consider getting into this affair though (mainly, KGB); it was simply highly unlikely that they would interfere at this time with a business that wasn't theirs to take care of. But the use of another language further confirmed her suspicions of that_ other_ possibility.

A name echoed itself in her mind, hauntingly. What happened next only confirmed itself.

The two agents nearest to the park suddenly flew into separate directions, an invisible force throwing them hard and fast away from the rest of the other agents.

"_Get them!_" the leading agent shouted.

Two agents fired at Natasha, who immediately ducked and did a low tumble towards them before shooting one of them in their thigh, rising afterwards to grab the wrist of the second agent then slamming her arm behind his neck. The man pitched forward with a guttural groan as Natasha disarmed him, taking his gun. Then to the man who had fallen on one knee thanks to the bullet in his thigh, Natasha spoke.

"_Ваш босс будет разочарован, если бы он увидел, что вы сейчас,_" _Your boss would be disappointed if he saw you now._ She was the one to taunt this time, one brow raised at the wounded agent before she shot the other one in his thigh as well. Then with sudden and unexpected speed, she simultaneously hit the agent in the neck with the gun and the other with her foot, rendering both unconscious.

Usually, she would've rather save the bullets and use other ways of incapacitating the agents but she just couldn't bother to do so today, a deep part of her having been disturbed after she had buried it for so long. Suddenly, she couldn't help but wonder when her past would stop catching up to her. In the light of recent events and discoveries though, the answer was probably 'never'.

The sound of bullets hitting metal echoed behind her; Barnes, no doubt. Natasha didn't bother either to see how the three men behind her were doing, instead focusing her attention to the head agent, who was looking around in fear and confusion, unsure of who to point his gun at.

It took a second for him to notice the spy's gaze on him. He flinched, pointing his gun at her.

"I'll shoot," he threatened.

"Go ahead," Natasha challenged back, unflinchingly.

His finger was on the trigger, ready to pull, while Natasha was ready to move. But the moment of tension was cut when a bullet was fired. It hit his hand, triggering him to fire the gun albeit in a direction away from Natasha as the agent let out a sharp cry. Immediately, Natasha ran to him and climbed onto his back, twisting her legs around his neck and pulling him down to the ground with her weight.

Landing on the concrete into a low tumble as the agent fell flat on his back, Natasha's eyes flew to the person who shot him. A few feet away was Sam, lowering a gun as he met Natasha's gaze.

"Why did you shoot him?" she questioned, irritation clear and present in her tone as she threatened to raise her voice.

"_What?_" a confused Sam asked.

Natasha had the HYDRA agent right where she needed him but now, she was stuck with him unconscious on the road instead. Now she was gonna have to wait a little longer to get the answers she wanted, until the agent was conscious again. She wanted to lash out but decided against it, like she always did, and slid back on a blank facade instead. Then without warning, she ran towards the park. Someone called for her name behind her but she paid it no mind.

Inside her chest, her heart was rattling stronger than ever. Silence reigned as she gave all her focus into the present situation, her mind devoid of any other thoughts. If her suspicions were right, then she just might catch yet another ghost from her past, one that had haunted her for so long. But she was too late, Natasha saw as she brought a stop to her running in the park. Her heart sank. The feeling of dismay was just too overwhelming, waves of it washing over her, that she leaned against a tree for a brief moment as she looked at the scene before her.

Several agents were scattered through that area of the park, including two she recognized as Alcott and McTavish. All of them were unconscious. Some she could see had not-so-fatal wounds while others had simply been knocked out. And yet, the perpetrator was nowhere to be found.

Taking deep breaths, she began to trudge forward to further inspect the scene. Behind her, her ears picked up the heavy footsteps of those she left behind, of Steve and Sam. Natasha was unsure whether Barnes had followed but the matter of him was not as urgent as the one in front of her at the moment. To her, at least.

"Natasha . . ." Steve said behind her. "Who did this?"

She wanted to say the person's name. She wanted to say it was another ghost. But for some reason, her mouth wouldn't open and let any of the words escape. Instead, she was stuck with another one of the countless tormenting memories she had locked up for so long as a chill lingered on her spine.

Steve was given the response of mere silence as Natasha gazed on with an empty look in her eyes.

* * *

Author's Note: That was some angst, eh? If there were some parts you didn't understand though, don't worry; I left them to be that way to be further explained in the upcoming chapters. So, we've had much of the spotlight focused on these characters for the past chapters, yeah? How about focusing on Bucky instead for the next chapter? Thoughts?

Also, for Natasha's new look at the moment, just search up Scarlett Johansson's look in her movie The Island (2005).

And here's another question for you, folks ━ thoughts about Romanogers? Yay or nay?

Looking forward to hearing your thoughts, opinions, and guesses. Follow, favorite, review!


	4. Lose Control

Author's Note: So, this chapter's short but I swear it's for a good reason. I just thought that it would have more impact if it was just this short and focused on one scenario.

* * *

_**( **_· **STEEL SILVER **· _**)**_

— THREE —

_the air is silk, shadows form a grin_  
_if i lose control, i feed the beast within_

* * *

**[ Undisclosed ] : 00.00.0000 :**

Biting his lower lip was all he could do from losing whatever little control he had left. It was all he could do to keep tears brimming on his eyes from falling, all he could to stop himself from screaming, all he could do to minimize the way he was shaking in fear.

The two men who were dragging him through the dark, narrow corridor finally stopped. They faced him to one side of the large room, where an array of jail cells were. While one man kept his hold on him, the other opened the door to one of the cells where he was unceremoniously dropped onto the cold concrete.

Behind him, he could hear the rattling of keys. They were locking him in, he realized. Sluggishly, he lunged at the metal bars, where the two men backed away a step. Slurred speech escaped his lips as his arm tried to reach for the ring of keys one of the men held. It wasn't long before he lost his balance and fell.

"N-no . . . no. No . . . please ━"

But the two men gave no reply as they soon turned away from him and walked away from his cell. Walked out of the room. When he heard the room's door groan back into place, a pained gasp left him as his hand reached to grab onto one of the metal bars to hoist him up in a sitting position.

Bucky leaned against the corner of his jail cell, near where the door was just open a minute ago, his right side against the bars. Silently, he stared at the lock. Locked. It was locked. Then, as if to make sure, he reached out to it and touched the metal. He tugged at it once, twice. It was locked.

He was locked.

All at once, he began to shake again. A silent gasp of disbelief escaped his parted lips and tears spilled down his cheeks. Fear engulfed him into its tight clutches as the cold embraced him. Words, now clear and coherent, tore themselves from his throat.

"Help! Somebody _please_ help me! Let me out of here ━ Help! PLEASE!"

Whether his screams fell on deaf ears behind the door far from him or that no one was waiting outside the room, Bucky didn't know. Soon, all that he knew was the sore and itch in his throat from screaming for too long. Then his breathing hitched. His lungs struggled for air. Bucky curled into himself.

Breathe. Breathe. _Breathe_.

He kept on repeating the word to himself but it seemed useless. His breathing grew erratic as his memories began to surface and flood his mind.

Scenes of flying bullets, gunpowder, bloodshed, spilled guts, and anguished cries.

And then he was back on that goddamned metal table again, struggling with what little strength he had left but leather straps held him down and chafed his skin. Dr. Zola's face loomed above him and all he heard were his own screams as he felt a needle pierce his skin. Darkness began to shroud him, dark spots dancing in his vision, until someone shook him awake. Bucky's eyelids flutter and there's another face staring at him and he realized it was _Steve_ ━ oh God,_ Steve_ ━ and a smile graces his lips because he has missed his best friend so bad and all he wants is to just go home and be happy again.

And, yes, he's home again but nothing's the same anymore. Steve was no longer his to protect because he didn't need to be protected anymore. But heaven damn him if he was gonna stop doing so. Bucky embraced himself because the cold is just too terrible, too _familiar_, and he was sweating and trembling again. But then he lifted his head and saw himself hanging from a metal bar. The wind blew harshly against him and Bucky looked up again and he saw Steve shouting. But his words are drowned out by the sound of blood swimming in his ears and the winter air roaring around him. And then the metal bar gives away.

It happened too fast and Steve is too late. Bucky is on the ground now, the cold snow biting his skin and ━ and he's alive and he's breathing and he should be _dead_ but he's not. And he could feel was pain deep in his bones but, worst of all, his arm hurt and ━

And . . .

With a look of horror settling on his features, Bucky lowered his gaze and it landed on his arm. Or, rather, what was left of it.

He drew in a shuddering breath as he grabbed the bandaged stump. His arm now ended just inches below his shoulder. Blood stained the bandages and for a moment, Bucky thought he might throw up but _no_ ━

He retched before the memory comes back to him.

Through bleary eyes, he saw he was being dragged in the snow. His nerves at the severed end of his arm burned from the cold, sending jolts of burning pain up him. A trail of blood was being left . . .

A sob got caught in his throat and his eyes begin to water. Bucky's heart clenched painfully as an overwhelming fear engulfed him. His breathing grew ragged and he did all he could to calm down, but he simply couldn't. He continued to shake, beads of sweat cascading down his face. Everything began to feel too tight as he bumped himself hard against the metal bars, earning a weak groan from them in return. Tears begin to spill from his eyes. And no matter how hard he tried to shut his mind down, the memories won't stop coming, bombarding him as they left a deep ache in his chest.

"_Breathe_."

And Bucky does so. But he was too short on air. He tugged on the neck hole of the shirt he wore. He can't.

_I can't breathe._

Several seconds pass before he finally caught his breath. His breathing grew less erratic, as he sucked in one last ragged breath. His grip on his own shirt loosened and the rigidness in his body slowly left, as if knots in his muscles began to came away. A sense of calm enveloped him and in the slightest bit, Bucky uncurled from himself and leaned his head back against the bars.

Then something began to weigh heavily on his eyelids.

* * *

A feeble cough is what woke him up.

Bucky blinked his eyes open to the sight of a small light bulb hanging by the entrance. He rubbed the sleep off from his eyes as he scrutinized it. The light it emanated was weak and barely illuminated his cell, which was even farther from it. Still, he forced himself to keep his eyes on it, the only sign of life there was in the darkness besides his wretched self.

After a train of thought, he licked his chapped lips and glanced down at his arm. With all his control, he did his best not to falter at the sight of the bandages colored a rusty shade that was his own blood. Then after a moment's hesitation, his fingers reached out to touch the bandages.

Bucky flinched, expecting pain to shoot up his arm. But he felt nothing. He was numb.

He felt around the stump more, to make sure. Still, he felt nothing.

Satisfied, he leaned back against the bars again, trying to silence the voice that nagged him as to why he felt numb. The moment he did, the cold brought him back to reality. Bucky blinked then gave a cursory glance around. All the cells were empty, save his, yet were all the same ━ damp, dark, and cold.

Where in the world was he?

Another cough, but it was muffled this time. The sound stirred Bucky's hazy mind as the realization dawned on him.

_Breathe._

It was not his voice that he heard awhile ago.

His lips part in shock and fear as a gasp leaves him. He was not alone. _He was not alone._

Where had the voice come from?

Bucky looked behind his left shoulder, the direction away from the door of his cell. His eyes struggled to adjust to the dark, to the cell beside his where the light no longer reached. And after a second, he made out the figure of another person in the cell.

His eyes widened. Another gasp.

Like himself, the person was curled up in their cell, hugging their knees to their chest. They, too, were in the corner, but in the farthest one from Bucky. They were leaning against the far wall from their own cell's entrance. For a second, Bucky thought he had made eye contact with the person. Then he found his voice to speak again.

"Hello?"

It came out as a croak. His voice was dry and low. Bucky tried again, louder this time, only for his voice to crack.

Twice, he said the same word, but he received no reply both times.

Was the person dead?

_Please don't be._

Then he catches their head move to the side in the slightest bit.

"_Ahoj?_"

Bucky was surprised that he actually received a response alone that he almost flinched.

The word was spoken by a female with a small voice, a taint of fear and uncertainty present. He realized that the word was from a different language; there was also an accent. The problem of a language barrier arose. Bucky swallowed in worry at the thought. Immediately, questions began to flood his mind but he kept them at bay. As frightened as he was, he didn't also want to scare the other with tons of questions.

"What?"

Silence. He saw her shift in the slightest in the darkness.

"They take you here too?"

His mouth jerked into a smile for a second as Bucky gave a relieved sigh. For that second, the weight on his chest seemed to lighten. She spoke English, albeit seemingly broken. But it wouldn't matter ━ he would have answers and soon, that would be all that mattered to him.

"Yes, yes, like you," he answered, leaning closer. "Do you know where we are?"

Despite remaining hidden in the shadows, Bucky caught her arms tighten their hug around her knees.

"HYDRA base."

Oh, God. _No_.

It started happening again. He was back on that cold slab of metal, bound and restrained, screaming in pain. Screaming for it all to _stop_. He thought it was all over.

But it wasn't.

_I'm back. I'm in Hell._

The thought set him on edge and he felt shivers travel his spine. He felt frozen with fear to the core.

_No. No. I can't be._

Bucky began to lose focus as his chest tightened and he broke into a cold sweat. He reached out and tightly gripped a metal bar. _Keep a lid on it, keep a lid on it_ ━

This was not happening again.

He shut his eyes closed. Bucky weaved past the recent events of his life and focused instead on memories before the war. Before he was Sergeant Barnes of the 107th. Back when the people he had to fight were bullies picking on Steve. When he was just another kid on Brooklyn whose only problem was a reckless, skinny best friend.

And then he focused on the fact that maybe, just _maybe_, if he got through this alive like before, then things can go back to the way they were.

But was that even possible?

_Get me out of here._

His eyes began to water but at the same time, he felt a wave of calm slowly wash over him.

_Focus._

_Focus._

_Focus._

He let go of the metal bar and rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, slowly doing his best to breath in then breathe out at a regular pace. Bucky kept his eyes on his knees as he waited for the to seconds tick by, for the calm to drive away the panic. A few minutes had passed before he caught movement, out of the corner of his eye, in the other cell.

The prisoner moved slow, almost as if she was in pain too. Feebly, she crawled on her hands and knees away from the shadows then stopped in the middle of her cell, cross-legged and hunched.

"They did something to you?" The words came out as a whisper, a slight quiver in her voice. But Bucky heard it, loud and clear enough. He grabbed at his shirt's neck hole, pulling it down.

"You can say that," he replied, an edge to his words, as he gave split-second smile that lacked humor. "I don't . . . I-I can't — No. I can't even think damn straight."

Silence reigned. Bucky kept perfectly still until he felt air normally rushing into and leaving from his lungs again. He listened to the rhythm of his breathing until it was steady again, but his grip never loosened on his shirt.

"Why can't I feel anything?" he blurted out, glancing at the stump of his arm.

He didn't expect an answer but he was still given one. "Anesthesia."

Bucky lifted his head and adjusted his position, leaning against the bars as he looked at the prisoner. All he could make out from her was a messy mop of hair, the limp waves ending above her shoulders. Her face remained shrouded in the dark, although he could see the contours of her features.

"Right," he muttered, lowering his head. "How 'bout you? What would they want with someone like you?" The words escaped him with little thought. It was partly a way to continue a conversation, before he started asking the important questions. It was also partly a distraction, so he could keep the past away, at bay. At least until his head could think straight again. He couldn't even fully absorb the details of his own current situation without losing his breath.

"I don't know." she answered. But there was something about the way she lowered her head when she replied made Bucky think that she knew exactly why HYDRA had her in one of their cells. She just didn't want to say it. She just didn't want to talk about. And he couldn't blame her; he knew just how she felt.

The hurt in his chest throbbed harder at the sight of the stranger. Prisoners of war, that was what they were. And just when he thought he had gotten through the worst, after Steve had rescued him, here he was again: in a cell covered with dirt and sweat. But minus an arm and with just a single companion.

Maybe he was just better off dead after all.

The thought struck a chord. It was painful to think of, as the memory rushed back to him ━ how he fell yet survived, losing just an arm. He pushed the thought away immediately, unable to bear the weight the memory had.

_I should be dead._

_Why am I not dead?_

"I don't know what they did me," he whispered to no one.

Suddenly, there was a terrible metallic groan. The sound made Bucky grit his teeth as he turned his head. He was met with the sight of the door opening, three men walking in with confident strides.

His first instinct ordered him to get away. The fear set in as he scooted towards the farthest corner of his cell, his eyes never leaving the men as they wasted no time in their fast pace, walking towards the row of cells he was in. The sound of similar shuffling reached his ears and he glanced at the next cell, the prisoner retreating back into the darkness as the men neared them. A gasp escaped Bucky as he felt his back hit the cold wall.

He never blinked once. Lips pressed into a thin line to stop himself from trembling, he could several emotions bubbling up inside him. Panic, fear, despair, hope, _anger_ . . . He was threatening to burst but for some reason, Bucky forced himself to keep still and silent.

_God_, he wanted to shout. He wanted to run at them. He wanted to fight them. But he knew better than to do any of that. As much as he hated cowering in a corner and feeling like an animal, Bucky knew better. He lacked the strength and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold his own, more so that he only had one arm left.

They stopped between his cell and the next one, one of the men stepping forward towards the female's cell. It didn't take Bucky more than a second to figure out that this one was the higher authority. Lean and wearing a clean-cut suit, he held his head high and his body straight.

With narrowed eyes, the man was clearly trying to find the prisoner within the darkness of the cell's corner. It was after he tilted his head that one end of his lips curled and he finally spoke.

"_Získávání obeznámený?_"

It was another language, one Bucky didn't understand. The string of words weren't directed at him though, he noticed, but at the prisoner. Bucky heard her exhale loudly and shuffle slightly, which only brought a hint of a smirk to the man's lips.

"_Jdi ode mně pryč,_" a venom-filled voice replied, and Bucky saw the man falter. His expression turned dark and serious before he gave a light scoff that bordered on being a chuckle.

"Ah. But I'm afraid 'no' can do, Miss Kasparova."

The men behind him then stepped forward, one of them holding the jingling ring of keys as he unlocked the door to her cell. Bucky heard the prisoner shuffle around more in her corner, no longer able to make a proper sentence but instead, letting out whimpers and growls at the two men who were approaching her. The man who had spoken stood behind, still in front of the open cell with his hands behind his back.

Bucky gaped in horror as the two henchmen grabbed and brought the prisoner to her feet, the female growing more and more aggressive, as she began screaming her protests. Her voice cracked now and then, slight trembles evident in her words. She struggled against the two but it was no use; even in the dark, Bucky noticed how weak she was in contrast with the men.

When they reached the cell's entrance, the man in the suit stepped back and gave way to the three. The prisoner's anguished screams began to escalate to desperate cries but she still fought as hard against the henchmen, trying her best to free herself from their harsh grips.

Bucky watched in silence as the scene unfolded, like the countless ones he had seen back in the previous HYDRA base he had been in. Soldiers being taken away for interrogation or to their death, sometimes something even worse. But there was no contrast between the soldiers he had seen before and the female that was being dragged away in front of him at the present — the moments were equally horrifying, and it sickened him down to his core. And both times, he could only sit behind the bars and watch, unable to help.

As the three passed in front of him, the man in the suit trailed behind them, taking his time with every step he took. But then he stopped when he reached the front of Bucky's cell. The soldier froze and, for the first time since they arrived, he blinked.

The man turned to Bucky's direction and began to walk towards his cell. Several urges began to rose again, all having Bucky unleash what fury he had unto the man before him but a voice of reason told him to stay in place. He watched the man stop before the bars and Bucky thought he saw the corner of his lips twitch for a second. He felt the man's eyes scrutinize his state which his blood boil.

"Don't worry, Sergeant Barnes," he said in a patronizing tone. "Your turn will come, one day."

Bucky couldn't care less anymore. His mind went blank and a blinding fury took over him. A guttural sound left him before he flung himself towards the bars. The man in the suit backed away just in time.

His shouts of anger blended with those of the female's distraught screams. But to Bucky, it seemed like it was as if the man before him was listening to music. He stopped for a second at the sight of a sickening smile curving the man's lips and after that, Bucky began to see red.

He screamed his hurt, he screamed his hatred. Bucky lost control of what words and curses left his mouth until his throat began to itch and feel raw again. He didn't stop screaming even as the henchmen, the prisoner, and the man in the suit left the room of cells and the heavy door groaned back into place.

Bucky only stopped when he felt a flair of hot pain shoot up the stump. His screams came to an sudden stop and the panic set in again. He no longer trembled with rage but with pain.

As it came to dawn on him that the people behind the door would continue to play deaf to his shouting, he was again left alone except for three terrible companions. His haunting memories that refused to leave, the biting cold and fear that darkened his mind, and the new searing pain that ate away at him.

_Oh, God. Help me._

* * *

Author's Note: I kept my word that I'd focus the spotlight on Bucky this time but . . . probably not the way you expected *hides*

First translation: _Získávání obeznámený? _— Getting acquainted?  
Second translation: _Jdi ode mně pryč _— Get away from me

Anyways! I still present to y'all the same question from the previous chapter. Romanogers: yay or nay?

As always, please follow, favorite, and review!


	5. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

* * *

So, I'm gonna try to go straight to the points as much as possible, 'kay?

Yes, I'm very aware that updating fics in a timely manner is _not_ one of my strongest points. But I had never taken up to more than five months to post a new chapter with any other fic, just this one. Heck, before I started this, the longest time I took was only two months with my previous works.

I'll admit that I had a very difficult time writing these chapters mostly because I'm not as easily as inspired as years before. But another reason would be because I lost my cheat sheet (yes, that's a thing) somewhere between August to October. Hence, it's been _really_ hard to work on the previous chapters without any of the guides or outlines I made before starting this fic.

But fortunately, I finally found my sheet (hidden inside a coloring book, it's so freaking _ridiculous_) and after some thorough thinking, I've decided to rewrite this fic.

The last chapter I posted will be the _last_ one.

So, it might be kinda unusual to do that since I'm not even ten chapters into this story but after I reread my cheat sheet, I ultimately felt unsatisfied with how the last two or three chapters turned out because I missed a lot of important details and whatnot.

I already have quite a number of followers (30+ followers and we're not even at five chapters yet? It's a new record for me) so I'd_ really_ appreciate it if you continue supporting me as I rewrite this fic. No, I won't be following the chain of events that happened starting from Chapter One to the latest one I posted; I'll be doing a _new_ outline, and flow and series of events (because, I'm gonna be real, things are going too slow for my taste and we need a change in pace, a faster one).

You can expect the new, rewritten version to be posted as early as Valentines' Day. If not, then sometime after that. It will also be under a new title: Voltaic Veins. (Hurr hurr, I know what you're thinking but it's for a reason that I'll reveal in the future)

So, this A/N was rather long but if you managed to reach the end without falling asleep yet, then kudos to you and hugs and kisses from across the seas! Thanks for the time you took reading this and I hope you understand.

'Til the next chapter,  
~ Mar.


	6. Announcement

**Author's Note**

* * *

The first chapter for the rewrite is up, folks!

Just go to my profile and click on the story, "Voltaic Veins."

A million thanks to those who stayed even after my last A/N! The world needs more of your kind.

I hope you all continue to give your support and also that you'll love it more than this one!

See you on the other side!  
~ Mar.


	7. Author's Note II

**Author's Note**

* * *

Hey there! For those who are still unaware, the rewrite for this is up! Has been for a while now.

For more details for those who missed out, just check out the last two chapters of this fic before this one.

Just go to my profile and click on the title "Voltaic Veins" to read the rewrite!

Feel free to unfollow and unfave this fic.

Hoping to see you all again ;  
~ Mar.


End file.
